Kim's India Adventure Blog

Birthday Blog - I am Grateful

2009-12-31T02:51:00.001-08:00

I am writing as sit in an outdoor restaurant overlooking the Arabian Sea, surrounded mostly by foreigners and listening to a wide range of languages chattering all around me. I’m in Varkala, which is on the south/west coast of India and is a widely known tourist area full of hotels and massage places and street vendors. It feels a lot like Mexico at the moment, there is even Latin music playing. It is a rather confusing type of experience. Suddenly, after two months of needing to keep my shoulders covered, to keep my cleavage camouflaged and the need to “act less Western” I am suddenly surrounded by bikinis, shirtless men, and women in all sorts of skimpy beach wear with the scent of coconut suntan lotion, big floppy hats, and western looking sunglasses. It is rather confusing to my senses.

A lot has happened since last I wrote (and I skipped posting last weekend because of the complications of travel). I’m actually not sure I can begin to capture it all without this becoming a novel but here are a few bullet points:

*When I left the yoga retreat center I went into a private “homestay” with relatives of the retreat owners. My time with them will remain one of the top highlights of the trip. This family was not a usual host home, and they loved the novelty of having a foreign guest in their home. They even wanted me to sleep in the same room with them (they all sleep in one room on the floor, but I would have the bed). We spent the bulk of the weekend comparing our cultures, cooking, eating, watching Indian TV (“Indias Got Talent” and “Deal or No Deal”, very surreal), and wandering around the neighborhood a bit. Deena, the daughter, spent one evening painting my hands with henna (see pics) – they are just beginning to fade. It was glorious.

*I found a friend at the retreat center to travel south with me (Izzy from the UK), and it was great to have her with me for awhile. We took a “backwater” boat trip to the Ashram that was stunning. (Total 24 hour trip). However, once we reached Amma’s Ashram it quickly became clear that Izzy was not “feeling India”, and an invite to Cologne, Germany for New Years eve with a good friend lured her away from our dirty, rat infested, hot ashram lodgings and I soon found myself on my own in the Ashram.

The “space” of being alone provided me the opportunity to sink into ashram life a bit. I quickly signed up for Seva (selfless service) and started spending my mornings meditating on the beach and chopping vegetables. The Ashram has over 3000 people at any one time, and about 50% are foreigners. I loved getting to meet people from around the globe, and if I haven’t already mentioned this I continue to marvel at the numerous conversations about President Obama and the level of optimism he seems to be instilling on a global level. Even as an avid Obama supporter myself I was surprised. I marvel at how much the world listens to American Politics, and how little I experience Americans as listening to world politics. Without using google (or any other form of “cheating), I wonder how many of you could tell me the name of the Prime Minister of England, or the president of Brazil, much less what their current political issues are? I don’t know why I forget the level of world influence we, as Americans, wield. It is staggering.

My first few days at the ashram were also spent feeling like crap. I got a terrible head cold and bladder infection and ended up utilizing the free medical care that Amma provides to anyone who comes to her hospital. The Doctors were great and they immediately handed me medication and charged me approximately .75 cents. It took a couple days but I slowly started to feel better. I eventually started spending time in the pool at the ashram and soon met Katheryn and her 11 year old son, Orion. We’ve been pretty much inseparable ever since.

*Orion got to hand feed the elephants in the ashram that walk through 2 or 3 times a day

*Christmas eve included a full musical play telling the story of the life of Jesus – fascinating to watch and appreciate while in a Hindu temple.

*There is an eagle who lives in the ashram. After the tsunami he was hand raised by humans and so has little/no fear of people. He is, in the words of Amma, “a naughty eagle”, and we must protect our meals from him. Numerous times he swooped down onto our table and stole an entire breakfast (eggs seem to be his favorite) lunch or dinner, brushed his wings against our heads, and basically terrorized the diners. Amma says he has bad karma and needs to redeem himself. He is, however, gorgeous and looks like a smaller version of the Bald Eagle back home – he is quite remarkable.

*The rats continued to visit our room nightly without much drama, except the night we accidentally closed them INTO our room, instead of out. The screaming is actually quite funny, and it seemed that once we got them out our window we would soon hear screaming down the hall.

*Amma is a powerfully “magic” being and difficult to describe in a bullet point. However, I will try a bit. She is said to be the incarnation and transmission of Divine Love/God/Goddess/Universal Power. She loves all people, all religions, all living beings and all the world. She is not “a religion” in the Western sense (although she is, personally, Hindu), she instead “transmits” Divine Love to each of us who come to her by giving us a hug regardless of our beliefs. This is not just a normal hug, but a “let me pull you deeply into the bossom of the Mother” type of hug. On Christmas morning I was wandering the ashram alone when a Nun dressed in orange (high ranking) grabbed me and ushered me into the temple. I didn't know what for, but thought I’d just trust the moment. A bit later I was again moved to the front of the crowd, and again I just followed the lead, not know what was going on. Suddenly, the crowd gets all wiggly and you can feel the excitement and in walked Amma. We were in the small temple and there were only a very few selected people in the room. Someone whispered “shes going to give a meditation”. I was thrilled, it would be a great honor to be at her feet for meditation. Then another flurry of excitement runs through the room and we are juggled into a straight line and someone whispers, “shes giving unexpected Darshan” (which are the individual hugs, and were NOT scheduled for Christmas day, and usually require waiting in a line of thousands of people). Suddenly I am being asked what language I speak, to wipe my face, and to get on my knees to approach Amma. Within just a few minutes I find myself in her arms, deeply inhaling the scent of roses and hearing her whisper into my ear “my daughter, my daughter, my daughter”. By the time I am ushered away from Amma I am shaking and crying and I have no idea why. I find a seat on the floor as near to her as possible and sit and watch for the next two hours while she hugs hundreds of people who are “day visitors” to the ashram and will not be there for Darshan the following day. She did not want anyone to go without the touch of Divine Love, especially since it was, afterall, Christmas.

I had been considering leaving the ashram the following day, but this event told me to stop being in such a hurry to go nowhere, and to stay at the ashram a bit longer to see what I would find here. The next day I found Katheryn and Orion from the UK.

I watched Amma do the same for the next two days for 16 hours at a time in a MUCH larger auditorium where observers do not get anywhere near her, but instead watch her on stage and on big monitor screens. While she is giving Darshan she does not eat, does not take a break, does not stretch, drink water or move from her seat as long as there are people wanting to “be with Mother”.

Because Amma has an ashram in San Ramon there were many people from the Bay Area, and it was fun/surprising to meet a girl who was born in Ashland. I even met a woman named Tara from Texas, and we have multiple Ashland friends in common. Sometimes I don’t feel so far away.

*Orion turned 12 this week and we stayed at the Ashram so that he could celebrate with Amma. We had a small party in the Western Canteen in the Ashram. Wednesday morning we hit the road for Varkala, deciding we needed a little tourist pampering.

*And now, today is my birthday. We started the day with tea on the cliffs, a two hour yoga class, and now I’ve been sitting in an outdoor internet restaurant all day. I’ve no desire to go anywhere, do anything or make anything happen (with the exception of getting this blog posted). Katheryn and Orion are in the ocean and I’m drinking fresh juice and thinking of home. I woke this morning inexplicably crabby and a bit out of sorts, and am now feeing a bit reminiscent and acknowledging that the trip has been fraught with all sorts of emotions, experiences, learning, doubts, fears, adventures, feelings of both weakness and strength, longings and letting go’s, heat and cold, rain and humidity. I’m both anxious to return home and hug those grandbabies, and to remain present by fully experiencing everything I can (including being crabby). This has been a once-in-a-lifetime experience, and I’m torn about it coming to completion.

I’ve yet to know how the day will end, and the trip isn’t over yet. I’ve almost a week to go and I’ve still got a few plans up my sleeve.

Till next year…….

A week unlike the others

2009-12-18T22:27:00.000-08:00

I have spent the bulk of my time here sort of on my own. I come to meals late and leave early, go into Conoor without telling anyone, hike the hills on my own, and work on the Peace Project by myself. It hasn’t been very “typical” of me, but it was exactly right for my heart, soul and spirit.

This week has been a bit different. A group of women (3), all originally from the UK (and who did NOT know each other before arriving at the retreat), and a gentleman from Belgium, became my support group, play group, shop group, yoga group and stay-up-late-and-chat group. We have had a lovely time (in the words of the Brits) and its been a blessing to have had them all show up in my week of final exams, classes and a bits-o-pressure. On Thursday, once our exams were complete, we all dressed up and made dinner a bit of an event. The girls bought party poppers and bindis for us all, and created a regular air of celebration for me. (see pics)

I’ve had a fabulous (albeit uniquely stressful) week. I didn’t receive my final grade until the next day, but I'm excited to say I received “distinction” (the highest grade possible). I was pleased, but I must say not as pleased as everyone else. I just wanted to pass the class!

Their presence here has also helped my yoga immensely. They were having a hard time with the classes (there is actually very little instruction in the “open classes”) and so they have provided me the opportunity to teach more, work with them individually, give a workshop or two, and really get detailed about the poses. I’m definitely leaving here able to do and teach things I never thought I could! (see pics)

In my own sort of individual celebration, after the final written exam, I took myself into Conoor and returned to the neighborhood of children who had asked me to come play with them the first day I visited the city. I promised them I would return , but hadn’t had the opportunity. As I wandered into their neighborhood they were thrilled to see me. The moment I rounded the corner toward their house the “leader of the pack” came running up to me and said, “lady, we thought you would never come back!”

I stayed and played with them for a couple hours. They taught me how to play cricket, they helped me find a temple to visit, I met their mothers, they chatted on about school, family and the new baby on the block. Our favorite entertainment was the “kids camera” I brought with me. I showed them how to use it and then sent them off in all directions to take pictures. They got some really fun shots that I will have turned into printed photographs and deliver to them sometime tomorrow. (See the pic of me with the cute little girl and boy-another little boy took it.) It was great fun.

Among the UK women is a gal named Izzy (see pic, second blonde from the left around the dinner table). Izzy didn’t really know what she was getting herself into when she signed on for three weeks, in the middle of winter, at an Ayurvedic Hospital for a detoxification program. Although she loves the yoga, she has been cold and uncomfortable since she got here. (We had a lady here who kept reminding us all, “this isn’t a spa, it’s a hospital”.) This isn’t exactly Izzy’s idea of vacation (and she’s right, it isn’t vacation). And so, my wish for a travel companion has come true! She has decided to escape and will leave with me on Monday to go to Amma’s Ashram! (www.amritapuri.org). I left the actual retreat center today (Saturday), but don’t leave Connor until Monday. I am working with the girls at the school on Sunday and staying with a family who will feed and take care of me for the last couple days. I thought it was a nice way to wrap up my time in Tamil Nadu.

On Monday Izzy and I will be driving to a nearby (4 hours) town where we will get on a houseboat and travel down the backwaters of Kerela. It is said to be the most beautiful trip in all of India, and to be substantially warmer than it is here on the edge of the Western Gatz (elevation 5000 feet). We plan to spend Christmas at the Ashram, and then Izzy will fly home to England. At that point I’ll still have a bit of time left in India on my own, and I’ll decide what to do next once the time gets here. We’ll see….

Balance?

2009-12-12T07:22:00.000-08:00

“Back in the day” I would select a word each year to contemplate, study and ponder in an attempt find the deeper understanding and integrate that word into my life. Somewhere around 2000 I chose the word “balance”. After a year of contemplation I found balance to be invaluable, but I also found that if I wasn’t careful balance could also cause me to become stagnate. Nothing big comes in, nothing big goes out, nothing big upsets and nothing brought big joy. “Balance” had the potential to make my life taste like vanilla ice cream. Then I met my friend Thunder who likes to say “can’t be too big!” (which I have translated to “forget balance”).

As part of our Astanga Yoga practice, we are being taught the concept of Pratyahara. This is the practice of controlling our senses in a way that things outside our selves do not disturb us. When we walk out to see that the cold, fog, wind and rain have rolled in we do not recoil or complain, we simply notice. When we walk out and see the bright full moon, stars and dark black night we do not sing praises of joy, we simply notice. A smelly pile of cow dung is to have no more effect on us that the scent of the jasmine strands in the market place (see pic). Pratyahara sorta feels like always staying in balance.

I am not always so good at Pratyahara, and I’m not sure I want to be. While I would love to not be offended by the scent of that pile of dung, I do not wish to loose the breathtaking response I felt on my walk to yoga this morning with the sunrise on the horizon, fog hanging on the distant hills, glowing early morning blue sky and the beautiful sliver of a smiling Cheshire cat type moon. Why would I not allow myself to be captivated by this external happening? Why would I not stop, marvel and admire such a beautiful site?

Because, they say, I will then be more disturbed the next time it is rainy, windy, cold and miserable, or I step in that pile of dung.

And, there are things here that are disturbing me; personalities, the lack of toast, eggs and orange juice, showering in the cold, cold mornings, personalities, missing my family and friends, my feet being so consistently cold, skipping a trip out to dinner because I needed to study, the horrid taste of the medicines, and a few of the personalities (did I already mention that one?).

But in the reverse I am aglow with the beautiful terrain, the varied weather, my bodies reaction to all this yoga, the new food experiments, the people, the way the gardener takes care of the luscious gardens, the way the owners care for me, the girls at the school and the beauty of their ideas of peace, the conversations with the “young bloak from England”, my wildly vivid dreams, Mohan calling me Kimmie Kimmie and Chiggon singing in my ear “I love you Kim, I love you true”, teaching yoga, my grades (so far), my hot water bottled filled with hot mint tea, the gifts I found for Kayla and her family for Christmas, and the rare but spontaneous chats I have with people back home on facebook.

I spoke with Matt this morning and I was venting a bit. He asked “so is the experience good or is it bad?”. I said it has both, and its really hard work and he said, “isn’t anything worth having hard work?”.

Perhaps if I were better at Pratyahara, I wouldn’t respond when it is sometimes difficult, sometimes fabulous and sometimes profound. I would just simply notice (naaa, that doesn’t sound like me).

And besides, I’m too busy being excited and anticipatory and in awe. I am on the daily count down to being done with the yoga course. Another week and, in the words of Buzz Lightyear, “we’re outtttaaaaaa here!”. I’ve talked with lots of people about what I might want to do next, where I might want to go, and where I might find more people interested in the Peace Project. Everyone is pointing me to Kerela. So, I’m creating a bit of an itinerary (not too much, I’m gonna go with the flow), but we’ll see what’s next.

The work with the girls and the school went extremely well. The girls surprisingly understood the concept and what I was asking. (I say surprisingly because I had relatively little time to explain and had anticipated needing to give them more direction). I’m working to put together a little slide show to give you a sampling, but currently I am attaching a spontaneous video that we made (I have a bunch like this one, but this is one of my favorites). I will be spending more time with them next weekend before I leave. Of course the school is hopeful that the ultimate end project will help produce some funds (that is the children’s book I plan to write utilizing the photos that students take). One of the buildings that housed classrooms and more importantly the kitchen has been condemned and they are in serious need of a new building (see pic). We’ll see what we can raise!

It’s been fun too seeing the enthusiasm that the project has created here at the retreat center. The owners got captivated by the project, people gave gifts for me to give to the girls, loaned me their cameras, and nightly dinner conversation was often times about the project. I now have friends in both Egypt and South Africa who would like me to come do the same project in their areas. Now THAT is something to get excited about (forget pratyahara!).

Today’s yoga test is over and done. It was all about anatomy and we had a ridiculous amount to learn in one week. I’m really not too concerned, it will be what it will be (oo, that sounds Pratyaharaish!). The good news is I’m excited to have the next day and a half with no classwork, just a couple yoga classesJ (oops, no pratyahara after all). Instead I think I’ll go to town and see just how Big I can be (thanks Thunder).

The more you "see" the more you "love"

2009-12-05T05:36:00.000-08:00

This weeks blog title was plagiarized from the back of a bus in a typically average Indian traffic jam. It struck me as the perfect opening to my week.

When last I wrote it was at the end of a long, dark week (Saturday evening). When I woke Sunday morning somehow the world looked very different. I kept thinking of the word “shiny”. Everything looked shiny; the sun, the faces of my retreat compatriots, breakfast, and my reflection in the mirror. I had the image of my girlfriend and her son who recently decided to “polish rocks”. What they didn’t know is that the tiny little rock polisher they got would take weeks and weeks of tumbling with different grades of sand to get the rocks smooth and “shiny”. Every time I visited them over the course of well over a month I could hear the distant rumble of that little rock tumbler working away to create gems. I think I’ve been in a rock polisher. I got all tumbled and rubbed up against tough sandy painful stuff and eventually I smoothed out. This week has been a “gem”!

Sunday a group of us went to the Wild Animal Reserve that was about a 3 hour drive. And while the elephant ride was fabulous (see pics), the road trip there was the real adventure! It turns out that you drop approximately 4000 feet in elevation by going down a road with 36 hairpin turns (the Brits in the car were very proud that the road had been engineered by a British man), with count-down signs on each turn and multiple signs warning of the dangers of the road (see more pics!) We sang the whole way (mostly Abba songs-I hadn’t realized how international they are!) and didn't once scream out in fear (of this I am proud).

While waiting for the elephant we were entertained by the monkeys that were casually hanging out among the humans. They were quite the charming little crew. (more pics) We were especially entertained by the “couple” who sat at our feet and preened each other in the mostly gentle, loving and detailed sort of way. It appeared that to signify when the cleaner was done with the cleaning, he/she would stand up and stick their butt in the face of the newly flea free partner. They were quite the kick.

It was a great start to my shiny week.

And then the week got shinier.

I have been talking with the owners, Contelal and Rekha, (pic) about the Six Billion Paths to Peace project I want to do with children when I am done with my yoga training (and lots of other things like the benefits of arranged marriage and their 42 year long marriage, the fact that this property has been in their family for 6 generations, and why Tamil Nadu is the best state in the entire country). Contelal is a member of the Education Committee for a group of schools in the area and he got so excited about the project that he took me himself to a school he thought would be interested. They were. However, when we looked at dates and such complications arose. The students start their “exams” on the 11^th, and then start Winter Break on the 23, giving me little or no time during my break to work with them! However, not to be discouraged, we hatched a plan that I start with the students immediately and complete the project before their exams, which means I get to start working with them while I'm still in yoga school myself! Woooo Weeeeeeee!!! And so, yesterday I skipped a class and spent the afternoon at the school. Unknown to Contelal this is an all girls school (I can’t quite figure out how he didn’t know that, but he swears he didn’t), ages 13/14, and while I had hoped for both boys and girls I could not look into the faces of those (15) young girls and say “no”, so I said “yes” and I’m hatching another plan to get some male involvement (more on that later). (I also trust the perfection of it all, and won’t even try to guess why it’s working out this way).

Yesterday, the girls and I discussed what we think peace is, where we would find it if we went to look for it, and why it is important. Then I gave them each a camera. (pic) They were thrilled. However, school here is very different than at home. Students sit in rows, they walk in line, they wear uniforms, their hair is all braided exactly the same way, they stand when they speak, they never speak out of turn, and even asking them to give me answers took awhile. With the other adults and teachers in the room they were very shy and quiet.

The next step is tomorrow (Sunday). The girls are meeting me at the park with their cameras. We are going out for ice cream and to take photos together. They were extra excited about this part of the week. I made them promise that if they came to the park the requirement is that they must talk, talk, and talk to me about everything. They eagerly agreed, and, of course, I don’t think the offer of ice cream hurt. I’ll be back in class with them next week and will let you know how it goes.

In the meanwhile, I’ve just finished my 4^th written test. This one was LONG and I took the entire 2 hours allotted time to complete it. Next week we start anatomy AND teaching our own classes on certain days-I teach multiple classes on Wednesday. I am happily exhausted, a little homesick, and “very much captivated by India” (said with head bobble).

PS all sorts of technical difficulties made it impossible to include photos in this post, so they are in a slide slow one post below - check em out

Slide show for blog above

2009-12-05T05:33:00.000-08:00

Peaks and Valleys of Week Three

2009-11-28T03:16:00.000-08:00

When the kids were little we had a family tradition of sharing at dinner time the highs and lows from our day (on occasion we still enact this tradition). Regardless of what sort of day we had (boring, great or horrific) there are always standout moments that could be found that are “higher” or “lower” that the rest. This week my highs and lows feel a bit like the Himalayas (as in drastic) only I’m a “bit” south.

My top highlight was getting myself in to my first ever full backbend/camel, hands and feet on the ground. I’ve been trying to do that for years. The class cheered. (see pic of inside of yoga hall – its quite beautiful with the morning sunrise while we do sun salutations) Outside of that……

I find myself both skipping happily to class, and then dragging myself in such a way that I don’t think I can make the stairs. I whistle one morning, and hang my head under the faucet and hope the day goes away on another. I cried when I finished the novel I brought along and realized I now have no mode of escape, so I have turned to the Beatles and they have pulled me through some of the tougher moments!

I’m sick to DEATH of the ayurvedic medicines I take multiple times throughout the day (see pic – YUCK) and am seriously considering quitting them. One of them is for weight loss and I weigh EXACTLY what I weighed when I arrived! I don’t understand how that is possible when there is no bread, pasta, cheese, ice cream, latte or butter to be found (my primary weaknesses/diet back at home). All we eat is fruit, soups, veggies and a limited amount of rice-made things, and I’ve never physically worked so hard at anything in my life. Seriously! WTF!!!!

Another highlight is the men who serve us our meals and generally take care of us (see pic), Mohan and Chiggon. They do make me smile, and Mohan has taken to calling me Kim Baby. It feels like such a sweet term of endearment and reminds me how we could never use a term like that in the States without feeling “hit on” or somehow offended at a lack of respect-here it just feels loving. They keep me laughing and keep it undercover when I’m feeling my lowest.

Our classes continue to be the source of occasional inspiration and interesting conversation. Suntil, our theory teacher, told us about a 24 hour "peace radio" that is produced by Indian Muslims. This week there was a program specifically on peace within differing cultures and religions, with the Hindu/Muslim relationship being the primary focus. It was said that "religious tolerance" is no longer good enough, it is now time to move into "love and acceptance" instead. The word "tolerance" implies that I will "tolerate" or "put up" with our differences, but that the only real way to have peace is to not "tolerate" one another, but to embrace, love and accept one another. Love that!

One thing I miss here is physical touch. There are no all-night snuggles with Rowan, Sunday dance or friends to snuggle with to fulfill that life-giving requirement. Born out of my desperation for a little physical contact I went to a beauty parlor and asked to have my hair cut just to have someone touch my head and hair. I’m not so sure it was a good choice (no picture included), but it was a fun experience. It was immediately evident that the only thing that made the lady in the shop a hairstylist was the fact that she had scissors. Her name was Privi (?) and insisted on parting my hair down the middle and flattening it to my head as is the popular look for India woman, but I looked ridiculous! When I, instead, wet my hair, turned my head upside down, moved the part to the side and fluffed it as big and curly as it would get all the women in the parlor laughed hysterically. There was little/no English in the room, but there was a definite understanding of woman-speak. They invited me back (I think) for a facial next week, I think I’ll take them up on that.

On another down note, yesterday (Friday) was my hardest day yet. I began the day not feeling my best with overwhelming emotions seeming to come out of nowhere (not to mention feeling pre-menstrual). Ganesh, our yoga teacher, says tears are toxins leaving our body and that I should go cry more.

Our yogic assignment for the morning was a purification kriya called Dhouti or Vamana, which is purification through vomiting! I was near tears and shaking when I arrived at the class, towel in hand as instructed (I really hate vomiting!). Our teacher began by demonstrating for us. It was when he looked up at us, mid-vomit, with eyes red and tearing, mucous and water running from his nose and mouth, and in a strained mid-vomit Indian accent said, “this is very good, it clears mucous from nose and chest, empties body of impurities” that my real panic began. We were then given our own chairs, buckets and pots of warm salt water (for chugging) and required to do the same, all together. Somewhere mid-vomit, while trembling from head to toe and trying not to cry for fear I might hit hysteria, one of my more verbose class mates began to chatter to no one in particular about “feeling complete” with his vomit which inspired me to yell, “SHUT UP!”. (I was proud of myself for leaving out my favorite expletive) I didn't think much about it in the moment, I only realized later it would require an apology. What I didn’t expect was the drama/trauma it would cause. He was, later, quite angry, but that's an entirely different story.

As we exited the class our instructor said, “dhouti also known to cause emotion to leave body, there may be much crying.” This, of course, caused me to burst into tears, I didn’t stop till this morning. After a full day of sobbing, a magical God-filled solo teary-eyed hike to the top of a mountain, an adrenaline rush when cornered, alone, by a pack of dogs and rescued by children and a school bus, a rather uncomfortable “clearing” between my classmate and I, and a good nights sleep (where I dreamed all night of Lisa, Lauren and our menstrual cycles!) things seems to be smoothed out between us, and my tears aren’t quite on the surface like they were. Hopefully no one will try and console me too soon or I’m sure to be in tears again. Is it possible there could be more toxins trying to escape? (Joy, don’t answer that).

PS I don't know why, but today the internet wont let me post photos - I'll try and add them later.

Week Two Yoga Boot Camp

2009-11-22T19:33:00.000-08:00

The routine of it all seems to be settling in. The schedule is quite full with my morning medicine delivered to my room at 6:00 a.m. yoga at 6:30, theory class at 7:30, breakfast at 8:30, more theory class at 10:00, more yoga at 12:30, lunch at 1:00, more yoga at 3:00, theory class at 4:30, meditation at 5:30 and dinner at 7:00. By the time dinner is over I collapse into bed to do it again tomorrow. (yoga hall is picture to the left) Our two hour written tests are on Saturdays. I’m becoming a bit more comfortable with the constant dull ache we yoga students seem to be experiencing.

Our “day off” is Sunday, with only one yoga/meditation class at 7:00 a.m. which is usually taught by the students. I taught my first class yesterday!! I loved it. It was a combination yoga/meditation class, and because it was Sunday we meditated on our 3rd Charkra (power), located directly above your navel. I thought to myself, "oh my god, I'm sitting on a mountain top in India facilitating navel contemplation". Sounded a bit like a sit com:) I can think of a few punch lines to THAT one!

The clients here at the retreat center with me come from all over the globe, and we have new people coming and going daily. Some people come here for courses (like me) and others are here as patients for detoxification or rejuvenation programs with the Ayurvedic Doctors. Patients usually attend the yoga and meditation classes with the students, and we all have our meals together, so it's a nice blend. Currently the countries represented here are Russia, South Africa, Canada, Australia, Ireland, UK, Thailand, Pakistan, Greece, Egypt, Italy, two others from the US (Phoenix, Arizona and Monterey, California), and of course India. Ages range from 20 to late 60’s. (We had a mother and her 1 year old baby boy here for 2 days, but they decided not to stay).

While the yoga course is basically what I expected, I am surprised at the amount of Sanskrit we are required to learn. It is the study of this very strange language that leaves me feeling constantly under prepared and nervous about the Saturday tests. The good news is that I seem to have a pretty good understanding of the physical part of our training.

As for the climate, now that the cyclone has passed we seem to be moving into a bit of a pattern that includes warm sunshine in the mornings and afternoon fog and occasional rain. The outcome is beautiful green surroundings, lots and lots of noisy birds and squirrels, and the wonderful smell of earth and warmth. The locals insist this is not normal as the rainy season is over and it should now just be cool.

There is a large house next to our yoga classroom that is having a retaining wall built by hand. There are about 10 men and women (two of which appear to be about 8 months pregnant) digging out the wall and carrying the dirt away in bowls on their heads. They chatter and clank and laugh all day long. It is a most wonderful backdrop of sound as we practice, meditate and attempt to “join with supreme” through the poses, breath and focused concentration. I have never experienced anything quite like this; the peacefulness is profound.

2009-11-15T01:56:00.000-08:00

I think I may finally be arriving here in India. While my body touched down on Indian soil last Saturday, this last week has been rather hazy. I landed in Coimbatore at the very beginning of a violent storm caused by a cyclone off the Bay of Bengal (or so I have been unofficially told). The drive from the airport was typically Indian (which is already a lot like “Toads Wild Ride” at Disneyland without the safety requirements) and with the addition of downed trees and mud slides along the way. However, the “real” storm didn’t start until later that night with howling winds and torrential rains that lasted for 4 days. We had had no electricity, sporadic water (cold only) and a deep, penetrating wet that made me feel as though I’d never be dry again. The sun finally peeked out on Thursday and we ventured out of the retreat center toward the town of Conoor, which is about a 15 minute tuk-tuk (auto rickshaw) ride from the retreat center. We were astonished at the damage that the surrounding villages experienced and realized that our retreat center is in a miraculously sheltered little piece of the mountain that kept us from any damage, but the villagers lost homes, and it is said there were between 300-400 deaths. We suddenly stopped complaining about the lack of electricity or internet!

The yoga course is incredible, complex and very detailed. We had our first of 6 written exams today. Each exam is 2 hours long, and while yoga is intended to not be competitive, our grades are basically shared with the whole retreat center and so the silent competition is alive and well!

I am also participating in a six week Ayurvedic detox designed specifically for me. Between the extreme amount of yoga, meditation and spiritual exploration classes and the effects of the detox, I’m a bit wobbly, but glad to be here.

Today started out warm and sunny, so we again ventured into Conoor. This time we wandered into the back alleys of town, and, as is usual in India, attracted groups of children (it sometimes feel a bit like “monkeys on parade” and I’m the lead monkey – I think it's the blonde hair). I love visiting with them, asking their names, answering their questions and taking their pictures and then showing them. One little group of children followed me for awhile visiting, chatting, giggling, and tentatively trying to hold my hand. When I asked where they lived they pointed to a large compound like yard area that had some sort of government signage. They explained that their homes had collapsed in the rain, and they were staying in the yard, they then asked if I would take their picture again. Their interminable joy is contagious।

It started to slightly rain on our way back, and now the rain, cold, winds, lack of electricity and no hot water is back, and I am sitting in my dimly lit room watching the clouds in the trees and listening to the rain on the roof and wearing layers of clothing trying to keep warm. And, although it is officially the beginning of winter here, the locals are saying this is unlike anything they have ever seen, and the measurements of the last storm break all records. I don’t know whats “normal”, but it certainly is nothing like my last visit to India.

5 Wells Have Been Built!

2007-02-18T16:27:00.000-08:00

I woke a few weeks back to an Email from Cedric, complete with photos, showing that the first 5 wells that we agreed to fund have been built....ON Time....and UNDER BUDGET! As I sat in my chair, watching the photos, the faces of the children, Mr. Vincent, the man who works for the organization that actually did the work, and Cedric, drinking from the new well with

clean water, I was overwhelmed by emotion. I think of the Margaret Mead quote, "never doubt that a small group of commited citizens can change the world, in fact, it is the only thing that ever has." Thank you for being a part of that small group of committed citizens.

Cedric is still in India. He is continuing to plan and budget for the completion of the remaining 14 wells that have been requested. I have watched the slide show again and again and again. I sent it off to friends, and now I wonder........what's next?

Highlight

2006-10-29T09:38:00.000-08:00

Many, many of you who have been following the blog say you don't know the outcome of the actual projects. I find this rather odd since it was, to me, the highlight of the trip. I suppose I just got carried away in all the other surreal moments of the trip.

The definite highlight is the fact that we got to get as many projects started as we did. Not only are we repairing the drinking/eating area at St. Helen’s school, but we wrote the check to begin the construction on 5 wells in 3 different villages. Cedric will return to the South in early December to check on the progress, and if all has gone according to plan we will then fund as many of the remaining 15 wells requested as possible. We are hopeful that we will be able to fund them all!

Here is a photo of a well that exists, and another photo of the place where a well will be built this month.

Top 5 Lessons Learned in India

2006-10-29T07:05:00.000-08:00

I’ve been back in the states for 10 days, and have, of course, been having tons of conversation with friends and loved ones (and anyone who will listen) about my adventures. I am sometimes surprised to hear what comes out of my mouth when I try and put into words the experiences, lessons and opportunities I experienced while in India. I want to grasp them while they are here, as much of what I say seems fleeting and I am afraid I will loose it. India is already feeling like a distant dream. So here it is, the top 5 things I learned in India:

5. The human spirit is incredibly resilient. With all of the discomfort, pain, lack and poverty that I saw in India, the people remained joyous, loving, open and grateful. I would have thought that the surrounding misery would diminish the human experience, but I was wrong. I am far more adaptable than even I knew. In an environment where NOTHING was familiar I was able to adapt and adjust in ways that surprised even me. This became most clear when I saw the shock on the faces of friends and family as I describe the different situations I experienced. I adapted to changes in language, food, temperature, toilet usage, hand holding, traffic, anger, cows, beggers, bugs, smells, textures, sound, touch, travel partner and physical discomfort. I have said that 3 weeks was about all I could take, but the truth is, I can take whatever is given me. I’ll adapt.

4. We all long for connection. In India, people seem to automatically come in sets of two. Everyone seemed to have a best friend that they held hands with, walked arm in arm with, and were in some sort of physical contact with. I don’t think we were designed to walk through life alone. I think it is a deep human desire to have partnership, relationship, connection and contact.

3. Change is difficult. Regardless of which set of social norms and mores we live under, they are ingrained in such a way that we become comfortable with things just the way they are. It was uncomfortable when nothing was familiar and I was expected to do or experience things differently than my usual way. I think of times in my life when things did not go as expected, when others had their own idea about how things should go, or things turned out differently than I had planned. I think of times of loss or grief and how I can confuse that with change. Sometimes I think I would do anything to make it go back to my way. But, in reference to number 5 my resilience allowed me to adapt to all sorts of unexpected situations, and some of it was very difficult.

2. I have the responsibility of both gratitude and action. I have been of the belief that we create our own reality, everything is a choice, and I am responsible for much of my life situation. I continue to believe this is true, within reason. While it is possible that I have chosen where to be born and who my parents are, that is a philosophical discussion for a later time. I am talking about the day to day choices I make that create and mold my reality. Where I spend my time, how I choose my friends and work, where I live and what is important to me are all things within my control. I have now experienced a world where this is not the case. With the cast system strongly in place, and the prevalence of poverty, the people in India live in the station to which they were born, and this is not a changeable factor for the vast majority. They do not have the same freedoms or opportunities that I have. Many do not have the opportunity for higher education or choices in their work or even the ability to marry for love. There is a system and social order that I cannot fully comprehend, but I do know that it is very different from what I know. It is my obligation and responsibility to appreciate and enjoy the freedoms and opportunities and abundance of my life. I have no time for whining. I want to reach out and help those who do not have the same opportunities-here in Ashland OR in India-wherever I see a need. I know I have been gifted with the ability to advocate for those who have less of a voice, less of an opportunity and less of an option. I cannot “waste” all that I have been gifted with, and I feel a sense of responsibility and obligation to use these gifts wisely and freely. I now know it is why I chose to be born at this time, in this country, with these opportunities – and that is to appreciate and share them.

1. There is a piece of my being that remains unscathed. For years I have believed that there is a core in each of us that goes untouched and undamaged in even the most difficult of circumstances. It is the core that connects us to Source, to God, to Universe, to the One. In the hardest moments, facing the largest challenges, when I was in the greatest fear or discomfort, I found that I could always reconnect and feel the beauty, safety and perfection in each moment. Because I was pushed harder than I am accustomed, because I was out of my element or comfort zone, the return to source felt far more profound and real than it had in the past. I have now experienced that source as real and tangible and solid. I now know that I cannot be far away from source, for I am that source.

In Closing

2006-10-26T08:53:00.000-07:00

Oct. 20, 2006

I have had the opportunity now to re-read my blog, look at the pictures, and sort through some of my thoughts and feelings about the past three weeks. Today I am again awake at 4 a.m., and wondering if this is a schedule that is going to stick.
I am amazed at how much the blog does NOT include, and at the amount of emotions and thoughts that I am still unable to describe or assimilate. Below are a few of my favorite photos. My very own saree, meditating under the Bodi Tree, walking in the Rice Paddies, and of course, “the boys”. Thank you so much for joining me on my journey. Your support, encouragement, comments and love have carried me through the most difficult times, and continually helps to shape who I am. Blessings to you, blessings to your adventures and blessings in finding your bliss!

2006-10-26T08:49:00.001-07:00

Get Your Own! | View Slideshow

Back to civilization

2006-10-20T14:14:00.000-07:00

Oct. 18, 2006

My trains, planes and automobiles moved along without any problem, and soon I found myself back in the Singapore airport. Walking off the plane into extreme civilization was a very peculiar feeling. Singapore if very developed, and this is said to be the best airport in the world. It has a gym, a pool, massage places, outrageous amounts of food and high end shopping to rival any Southern California mall. It is a model for consumerism and our huge level of consumption. Suddenly, the women in sarees looked out of place, and I knew I looked more than a little road-grubby. I could smell India on my clothing and in my skin between the scents of Chanel, coffee and Swiss Chocolate. It was a very peculiar transitional feeling, and already India seemed like a distant memory (and a partly contrived memory at that). How can both of these worlds exist so closely to one another?

I spent much of the flight home pacing along the back of the plane, and trying to put together the keynote I am returning home to give to a group of women in Big Bear on Friday. How am I going to be able to sum all this up in one hour, and what is the primary message I want to give? Is it about manifesting your dreams? Is it about compassion for others? Is it about humanitarian or peace efforts? Do I want to drive home the point that we in America have more than we ever could imagine in terms of not only material possessions, but opportunity and abundance, and it is our obligation to use it wisely? Do I talk about those who do not have these same opportunities? Do I want to compare and contrast, explain and describe or show and tell? Can I put together a slide show? Would people be interested in that? What the heck am I going to say?????

My flight from Singapore ended up coming into the States directly over the Golden Gate Bridge. I watched the California Coast out the window for the rest of the flight. I was able to spot all of the different areas I know so well…..Carmel, the Red Woods, central California agriculture, Santa Barbara, Malibu. I could see them all, and I knew I was home. I’m ready to be all the way home in Ashland, but this is my State and I am ready to be back. Already, I’m wondering if I’ll ever have the opportunity to visit India again. Already, I am wondering how India has changed me. Already, I am thinking about what is next.

An afternoon in Chennai

2006-10-20T14:11:00.000-07:00

Oct. 17, 2006

I now had a 9 hour layover until I would catch my plane to Singapore. Again, I didn’t want to spend that much time sitting in the airport. This airport is very sparse, and it would make for a LONG day. So, I hired a taxi/tour guide to take me to the Oceanside resort of Mamallapuram. My drivers name was Auto, and he had very little English, but was really willing to play with the language barrier until we could figure out how to have conversations. The ride down the coast was unlike anything I had ever seen so far.

This piece of coast is far more developed in a resort kind of way. The beaches were beautiful and the wide open spaces along the shore were breathtaking. Auto showed me where the Tsunami had come, and told me the story of his experience with that life altering event. He had just driven a customer to one of these resort areas that morning, and as he sat at the hotel after dropping him off. Soon he noticed crowds of people running toward him and screaming. He was in a slightly elevated area and was able to look down and see the water rushing toward him. He could not figure out what had happened, and why there was water coming his way. He had never heard of a Tsunami, and stood in shock as the water came very close, but did not touch him. He also talked about how many people died, and how helpless he felt.

As we entered the coastal town of Mamallapuram we were charged an “entrance fee”. We were also charged every time we parked, entrance fees for every rock carving and park, and there were people selling drums, statues and necklaces at every turn. This little town was definitely a tourist spot, and they were hittin’ on me heavy to buy, buy, buy. I resisted until I was a approached by a young girl of 12 or 13 who had badly made necklaces. She was incredibly insistent that I buy, and followed me to my car. She was relentless and I finally caved. The instant I did I was surrounded by 7 or 8 women/girls all selling their own pieces of junk, all with babies, and all looking for a way to feed them. I had to wedge myself into the car as quickly as possible, and tell Auto to drive away.

Indian “Road Trip"

2006-10-20T14:05:00.000-07:00

Oct. 17, 2006

Sunday began my travels home. The boys and a taxi picked me up at noon for the 4 hour ride to Patna. Anup has only been to Patna twice before, and Rajesh has never been this far from his Village. They were both excited to join me for the 4 hour drive. I explained the concept of a “Road Trip” and told them we’d have great fun. As it turns out, the taxi that showed up had no air conditioning, and it was a long hot ride.

Along the way I taught the boys a couple car games. One is a game I used to play with my kids when they were very young. Each person in the car “races” to find an object that begins with a letter of the alphabet, beginning with A and traveling to Z. I had to adjust it a bit, as there are few signs along this rural route, but the boys quickly caught on and it was GREAT fun to watch them try and think of how to spell words in English. As it turns out, Anup has the better spoken English, but Rajesh has the better written. They promise to help each other with these skills.

Eventually, both boys fell asleep, and I watched as their heads bobbed and they looked like they hadn’t a care in the world. What was their life going to be like? What does their future hold? Who will they become?

We arrived at the airport to see if we could find me a hotel nearby, but when we asked the airport manager he said, “we have a hotel right here on the premises, all Indian airports do”. OH MY wouldn’t THAT have been convenient information to have had prior to my last night in India!

Later than evening my room phone rang. It was the airport manager and he wanted to know if it would be to much of a bother to join him for a cup of tea. After my initial fears subsided (as I made up stories of being kidnapped and robbed-RIDICULOUS) I agreed. When I arrived in his office he was thrilled to see me. He loves any opportunity to visit with tourists, and wondered if I would tell him a bit about my country. The conversation lasted for hours, and by the end it was as if we had known each other for a long time. We spoke about traffic, castes, educations, marriage, the new piece of property he just purchased to build a home, his rate of pay (he even pulled out his last paycheck stub to show me how much he makes, saves, invests and pays to the government), recreation, food and more. It was my first opportunity to really talk to an educated, middle caste man about things OTHER than the fisherman villages or bottom castes. It is said that India is only one country, but it is filled with many different people. I primarily only have experience with a small amount of those different kinds, and mostly all the lower “backward” casts.

It was interesting to talk with him about the boys. When I had first arrived I came into his office with Anup. The manager was a little suspicious of Anup and asked who he was. I said he was my student. This made Anup acceptable. Later, when the manager and I were talking, he said that he knew both boys were of a lower caste, and that they were also of two different castes themselves. The boys had mentioned to me that they were of a different caste, but neither could really explain to me what that means. When I asked how he could tell, he could not identify why. He just “knew” it to be true. The boys, to me, just look like two average boys. I don’t know how that is identified.

The next morning was the beginning of my big day of travel, and it started off with tea with the Manager. I headed out and 7 hours later landed back in Chennai.

Education in India

2006-10-16T22:54:00.000-07:00

The last few days has been filled with discussions about education, English and the future of our boys. School here is very different than school in our developed countries. “Going to school” in India simply means the students are given the requirements of each subject, and then students go buy their own books, and hopefully find (and can afford) a “coach” or “tutor” to help them study, or they study on their own. As students complete their studies for the school year (mostly independent) students pass the grade by taking a final exam. Because the final exam takes a lot of study, the students are not required to actually GO to school for 3-5 months before their exam so they can study independently. (Anup spent this time working in the fields, and did not take his final exam yet) So in the months leading up to their final exams, they do not actually ATTEND class!! CRAZY!

Regular school goes to tenth grade. 11th and 12th grade are considered optional and are called “college”. These two years are intended to prepare students for a 4 year University. (however, these two years have NO math included). These two years of “college” run 11-3:30, with a lunch break, and have LOTS of “holidays”. Currently, the college is closed because they are painting, students go back in a week.

There are two different English institutions here. The best plan is to attend institution at the same time you are going to College to improve your English. India has 1600 different languages, and English is the common one that is needed to get around here, as well as outside the country. It is also the language that is most likely to set these boys up for any sort of success. If you do not have good English, you have absolutely no chance of bettering your station in life. (ps these boys LOVE email, if any of you would like to correspond with them just let me know! It is a great help to their English as well.)

The plan is that the boys will spend the next two years in much more organized and structured education setting than usual, and be well prepared to attend University in Delhi in 2008. Anup will be one year behind the other three. It is a plan fraught with difficulties, cultural distractions and challenges. We have coordinated a good support structure for them with both Siddartha and the tutor, and now it is up to them. I have high hopes that they will continue to break the chain of their casts and improve the world around them as well. I wish I could do more, and, I am hopeful.

A Trying 24 Hours

2006-10-16T22:53:00.000-07:00

Oct. 15, 2006

Well, it happened. Damn it.

I have secretly prided myself on the fact that I have not gotten sick during my time here. I have eaten cautiously, taken my anti-bacterials and anti-parasite supplements daily, and stayed away from meat, fruit, raw vegetables and local water of any sort. I’m not sure what thing finally pushed me over the edge……the LONG walk through the rice paddies in the blistering Indian sun-no hat, no water? The market bananas I allowed myself because I was so very hungry? Sheer exhaustion? Overwhelming emotions? I’m not sure, but the last 24 hours have been spent in close proximity to the bathroom (thank god we have a western style toilet here!!!). I’ll save the grizzly details, but suffice to say it wasn’t pretty. (No pictures for this entry) I slept most of yesterday, and this morning I am feeing much, much better. This is really good news, as I START my travels back to the states today. I am, however, disappointed that I missed a day of Bodhgaya, the travels with the Doctor, and time with the boys.

My car and driver will arrive at noon – Anup and Rajesh are joining me for the 4 hour ride to Patna. I am glad they are coming along, Patna is intense and it will be good to have them help me find a hotel and such (and, of course, I enjoy their company). I fly out of Patna Monday morning – so I’ll be there on my own for a night. Cedric will stay here in Bodhgaya for the next few days, finalizing the details on the boys tutoring and schooling that we are coordinating. He is contemplating spending the next month here working with the school and students. He has a tremendous amount to offer them in terms of computer education, budgetary planning, program development, awareness and over all scheduling.

Trying to coordinate the education for these boys has been very frustrating. We met with the tutor last night to set up the schedule for the boys studies. We have learned some interesting things about education in India.

More on Marriage in India

2006-10-16T22:52:00.000-07:00

Siddartha talks to me about some of the deep seated problems that continue to hold this country back. He says arranged marriages are one of them. He explains that what these marriage really are is cattle trading. The sons are thought of as cows, and the fathers are anxious to sell them off to the highest bidder. Sons are a financial commodity, not because they will help support the family through their labor, but because the good ones bring a higher price. Anup’s father is currently thinking about selling him. He is only 16.

He says these marriages that do not include love are very painful, especially to the women. The women are kicked around “like a football”, and made to serve the mens every need, and to tolerate all sorts of abuse and behavior from their husbands. This causes a very negative family life, and the pain is just repeated over and over again. Siddartha has announced to his family that he will not be sold into marriage. His father is disappointed as he would bring a very good price, but Siddartha says he’ll get over it.

With all of his talking about the subject, he has not been able to change the minds of his older students. This is a deeply rooted cultural belief that is very difficult to change. He believes this sort of change will come with the very young ones, primarily the orphans that he has the greatest influence on. Anup says the arrangement of the marriage is okay, and he wants his father to choose, but he is going to insist that he get to meet the girl first so that they can “interview” one another to make sure what they want in life is the same. He also says he is still paying off his debt for what he was required to give to his sisters dowry. What he is really hoping for is to become a monk, and then he will not need to marry (although many monks do marry, he says those are “fake” monks, and he will be a “real” monk)

Siddartha a an agent of change. Bless him.

Meeting with Siddartha

2006-10-16T22:50:00.000-07:00

When I went to meet with Siddartha he drove me to a remote spot outside the village for some peace and quiet. I explained that I am thinking about sponsoring these boys education, but that I need to know if that is a good thing to do. I do not know the culture, I do not know the realities, and I trust that he knows how best to assist these young people. Initially he is hesitant to “endorse” this plan, as these boys are “clever and will survive”, while there are other students in the orphanage “whos very lives are in jeopardy.” But as I explain my intentions, and the boys dreams, he answers me with this story:

There was once a man who stood before God and asked, “Why is there so much suffering? Why did you need to create heaven and hell? Why is earthly life so much like hell?” And God said, let me show you heaven, and let me show you hell.

As God showed the man hell there was a huge pot of soup in the center of miserable, suffering people. The soup pot held a very long handled spoon. The people sat around the pot in deep, deep pain and misery.

Then God showed the man heaven. Here was the same pot of soup with the same long handled spoon, but the people were dancing and singing and living merrily along.

The man was confused and said to God, “What is the difference? They both have the same pot of soup and long handled spoon, so why is one group so miserable and the other so happy?”

God said, “The people who are in hell continue to try and feed themselves with the long handled spoon, but struggle and cannot reach their own mouths. They are hungry and poor and full of disease. Those who are in heaven have simply learned to feed one another. By feeding each other, by giving to others first, everyone can experience heaven on earth. It is all a choice.”

Siddartha went on to explain that the soup is not just mortal food, but the food of the spirit and soul and heart and people. It is the soup of all things, and those of us who serve are those who live the happiest lives. He could see how much I want to help, and that my motivation is for the betterment of the boys. “In that kind of giving, mama, you cannot go wrong.”

Naranja School and Siddartha, Sujata Village

2006-10-16T22:47:00.000-07:00

In the two years since Cedric was last here, the growth and expansion of this school and orphanage is absolutely remarkable. The orphanage has expanded from 8 boys to 67 boys and girls. There are 16 boys right now, the balance of the boys and the girls move in by the end of the month when the new building is completed. The current school has 4 classrooms for 350 children, the new school, that will be occupied by the end of the month, has 4 stories of rooms, including a new dormitory for the boys. Currently, the boys dormitory is a classroom during the day. The students sit on the orphans beds to do their studies. (a “bed” is a wooden platform with a blanket).

Siddartha is the visionary behind this project. He is a young (30 something) Indian man who has a heavy heart for the pain in his country, and mostly for these children. Two years ago the new school and computers and a jeep was a distant dream. Today he has it all. His next greatest challenge will be opening the girls orphanage wing. He explained how boys are easy and can be put anywhere, but the girls that are coming are in much more dire need of services. They have almost entirely experienced numerous rapes, child bearing, still births (induced), beatings and abuse.

Some of the children here are support directly by Siddartha. His pay as school director is very small, and so he is leaving for 3 months to go earn “real money” in Japan so that he can come back and continue his work here. He does not want to leave.

The rooms of the school they are now in are small and cramped. A ten foot square room has 19 students stacked in it. The larger classroom (30x10) has over 50 of the smaller children stacked in side by side. The school runs in shifts to accommodate all the students. The secondary students are 7-9 a.m. the middle age students are 10-1 and the youngest students are 1:15-3:30. The new school will feel like a mansion!

Siddartha asks me to return next year to work with his girls. He also asks if I have any friends or family who would like to come spend time here with the children. Any takers?

Like a Dream

2006-10-16T22:22:00.000-07:00

10-14-06

The days here in Bodhgaya and Sujata have passed rapidly. So much to say and share, but we are on the move today so I do not have long to write. We are meeting Siddartha shortly. I am going to join him and the local village doctor as they provide medical services to the street children. I am not sure my heart can take much more, but Siddartha says it will be healing for me. The last two days have been a blur. As Cedric dedicated his time to Guhlan and Ravi, I was “adopted” by two young boys, Anup and Rajesh. I have barely seen Cedric in days, but I know that we are both captivated and in love with “our boys”. The boys here come in sets of 2. Everyone has a best friend that they are inseparable from. “My” two explain their friendship to me, and how invaluable it is. Anup says, “this way, you always have someone to support you, to encourage you, to give you good advice and who wants the best for you.” Anup has the better English of the two (which is still very choppy), but Rajesh tries really hard. Anup wants to be a journalist-monk one day, but his guru told him he must get an education first, as a monk without an education can do no good, and he wants to do good for his people. His father is a farmer, and because the family is very poor his education is often times interrupted with the need to work in the fields. However, the land will probably go to Anup’s older brother, and so Anup would like very much to change career paths. This is not easy to do in India. Rajesh has no father, and he too wants to help his village. He wants to be a teacher, but his family is very poor and there is no money for further education at this point. He is destined to be a rickshaw driver or field hand. They take me to their homes, I get to meet their siblings, extended family, and most importantly their mothers. Both mothers are in strong agreement that the boys best chance is a good education. They both say education comes first. The boys take me around Bodhgaya for two days. There are 110 temples here, and is a mecca for spiritual pilgrims. Bodhgaya is home to the Bodhi Tree where Siddartha gained enlightenment and became Buddha. We spent quite a bit of time under that tree, listening to the monks chant and meditating. This is one of my absolute trip highlights. Because Anup has been studying Buddhism, he is able to tell me all about the differences in the religions, the traditions behind Hinduism and Buddhism, and the symbolism and meanings of the millions of signs, statues, trees and monuments. I think it is no accident that I get paired up with the student who wants to be a monk. In a way, we already talk the same language. I have not purchased many gifts while being in India. Most everything is just crap and I don’t feel motivated to carry any of it. But the gifts here are different. There are beautiful carvings and silks and things. The boys offer to take me to market, but first make me agree that I will only point out what I want and then walk away and let them deal with the pricing. “Otherwise”, they say, “you will be very cheated.” (Sundar did the same thing for me in Kanyikumari). At the end of our shopping spree Anup insists on giving me a written receipt for each item so that I know exactly how much I gave them and how much they spent. I am out of space in my bag, but I sure would like to shop some more! There are a few items they deem too expensive, I’ll have to go back there myself today and pay the price. I mean really, $25 bucks is not too much to me! One of the sites we visited was the cave where Siddartha, before becoming Buddha, sat for 6 years without eating. The boys were excited to take me there and said it wasn’t very far. They also felt compelled to warn me about the beggars that would be along the path. There are beggars at the entrances to all the holy sites. The boys said it is very difficult to see, and that I must be sure to not give to these beggars as that only makes matters worse. I was hesitant, and unsure I could take much more of that sort of view, but I did want to explore outside of the little village, so we went early in the morning before it got hot. It turned out to be a 45 minute autorickshaw ride over narrow, bumpy, dusty, rural roads. At one point I laughed outloud to myself – observing where I am and what I’m doing. I mean, OH MY GAWD, I am in the middle of Rural India with two young boys I do not really know, no one knows where I am and home is far, far away. I don’t think I could call Kayla for a ride home. When we arrived it was quite a hike up a huge hill. The sidewalk was lined with beggars with all sorts of ailments. Many of them were girls the age of 12 or 13 with babies of their own. There were open wounds and leprosy and blindness and crippled people everywhere. They all greeted me with Namasta and Hello, but when I did not give to them I could feel their curses and hear their spitting behind me. Once we reached the cave, there were many people praying and meditating and a small class was being taught in what I think was Tibetan. Once again, India shows me he most startling of contrasts. I was overwhelmed. The boys are continually showing concern for me. I don’t know what I looked like, but they kept checking, “you okay mama?”.

The Difference Dinner Makes

2006-10-12T21:19:00.000-07:00

10-11-06

After settling into our room, and gaining my composure, we head out for dinner. Awhile back, Lonely Planet recommended “The Pole” restaurant to travelers. There are now 5 Pole restaurants, and each says THEY are the recommended restaurant. We ate at “the original pole” restaurant – whatever THAT means.

I am already surprised at the different feel of this village. Here we are greeted with “Namaste”, and there is a friendly feeling in the air again. The young man who helped us with our luggage was very excited to see us, and was hesitant to take the tip. He just wanted to visit. His name sounds something like Sandwich.

After dinner, I asked to walk to the bridge to see the water. The sunset was nice and it felt good to breathe again, but it was getting dark. Cedric continued across the bridge. On the other side is the village where his friends live, but we were not planning on going there until tomorrow. As we walk we are approached by a young boy on a bike, Pernod, who asks our names and where we are from – already it is feeling very different here than it has. As our conversation with him continues Cedric asks if he knows Ghulan (said Julian) and Ravi, and he does! He says they are his friends, he says he can take us to them. Soon we are also approached by two younger boys, who say they live next door to Ghulan and they will also take us there. It is dark now, and we are on a rural village road with children all around, talking to us in their broken English. I am getting a little frightened, but there is no going back. We enter into the village Sugata, people are cooking dinner on the side walks, and we are greeted at every turn. Soon, we are into the alleys and streets of the village, a rat scurries across my feet and my scream startles the boys around me. There is much laughter. We walk on.

This has been a walk with no motorized vehicles around, and soon a car approaches. As the car passes the man yells out the window, “Brother Cedric? Is that you?”. This is the man that inspired Cedric to come here, the man who runs the orphanage, the man who wants to build a better school. This man is Siddartha.

Siddartha is thrilled to see Cedric, and very welcoming to me. He says we have arrived at exactly the right time as they are celebrating the opening of the new school building and that there is a big party for us to come to. Soon we meet up with the boys who are good friends with Cedric, they are so excited to see him. They call him Brother, and reminisce about the wonderful times they had when Cedric was here before. They want to show us the school, and they are very polite and concerned for my safety. They constantly hold my hand and say, “come please” as they lead me around the school. They call me Mama.

We are treated like honored guests. They have much to tell us about their growth and success over the past two years. They want us to see it all. It is a 4 story school, with running water and toilet facilities and a small computer lab. The boys who are friends with Cedric have graduated from this school, and are now attending college. Ghulan says he is in college because of Cedric.

It is very, very dark now, and with the very, very dark faces of the boys it is difficult to distinguish one from the other. But there is one with a red baseball cap who stays close to me. He is sure I get everywhere safely. He wants me to see the orphanage, and to meet the orphans. There are 16. When we arrive, they are on the open patio outside their dorm, washing up for the night. They range from 6-12 years old. There are approximately 16. They are very excited to meet us, and each shakes our hand, asks us our name, tells us theirs, and asks where we are from. I want to stay here. This is why I have come.

My oh my, the difference a dinner makes.

Tonight, I sleep like a rock.

Meltdown Moment

2006-10-12T12:17:00.000-07:00

10-11-06

We are in Patna. We traveled all day yesterday from the South. It was a long a difficult day of travel, and I am exhausted. We arrive late, and get the last cab at the airport to take us to the hotel we requested. Lonely planet says this is a fine city in the day, but do not be out after 8 pm. We arrive at the hotel, and the front entranced has a locked cage over it, and we are asked to enter through the side. The driver spends the whole ride telling us how bad the train is to Bodgaya, and that we should hire him instead. It is 10 p.m. and stiflingly hot. The hotel lobby is FILLED with bugs, and a beat up, rag taggy butterfly that looks, to me, like India. Broken, bruised, torn, dirty and barely able to fly.

After the usual arguing with the reception guy and bag boys we arrive in the room. I look into the bathroom and a gecko scurries up the wall-I let out a bit of a yell. I have been feeling sniffy and snuffly all day, and now I’m feeling congested and miserable. I have not really eaten (only snacks) and I am shakey. We have traveled too far for such a short visit and I am feeling the lack of thoughtful planning in a resentful way, although there is no one to blame. I feel hot tears in my eyes, I am miserable, and there are bugs in my bed. I shower and climb into bed wet and naked to try and reduce my body temperature. The fan is broken, and makes a loud hummmm. I put in ear plugs and try to escape.

My sleep is choppy, I do not dream. I am still hungry.

We were told there is a train at 10 in the morning to Gaya. I wake at 8:10 and think we’ll never make it given our normal routine in the mornings. I am painfully hungry and shakey. I wake up Ced and he says the alarm is set for 8:30. Alright….I decide to shower. Ced goes to the bathroom, and I hear the shower come on – okay, so I’ll eat! Room service is not terribly priced, and if I do not eat I fear I will not be able to carry my own bag. I am still hot and shakey and cannot seem to catch my breath, the air is too hot and heavy to breathe. I ask Ced if he wants room service breakfast, he says no. I order eggs. They arrive while I am in the shower, and Ced is visibly agitated (I think about my ordering breakfast). He decides he needs to work on the budget, so he gets out the computer. I am worried about making the 10:00 train that we are not sure exists. Ced does a good job leading, but he does not communicate to me what we are doing, or what he is thinking. We are offered a taxi, but we say no and walk outside. He gets two bike rickshaws to take us to the train station. The ride is like something from a movie. Broken down rickshaw with skinny, muscular drivers, over dirt roads, congested, alongside cars and autorickshaws. There are cows and tractors and bikes hauling huge loads and people with packages on their heads. It is a surreal moment. Cedrics rickshaw passes mine, and he is in front now. We arrive at the train station and load on our very heavy packs. Mine is 40+ pounds. We run from window to window to find our correct tickets. The terminal is full of people sleeping in piles here and there, many of these children and old people clearly live on their small piece of burlap in this terminal. In Delhi, I saw children who looked to have been intentionally burned (severely) in order to better beg money. Now there are people in all variety of ailments lieing throughout the terminal. It looks like a trauma ward from MASH. It is heavy and hot, and we are POURING sweat. It is dripping off my nose, chin and ears. My bags feel heavier and heavier, at every turn we are approached with offers of taxis or help or information or something that they want us to pay for. We are rushed, but I do not know why. The ticket counter told us the train was at 10:30, it is only 9:30, but Cedric is very hurried. I am chasing along as fast as I can. There are children everywhere, these are not the happy smiling faces of the village children, these are hungry desperate faces. We have been told to not give to the beggars, as it encourages them to continue begging instead of working. An old man grabs at the hem of my pants, I feel as though I must walk on past as if he were not there. And then a young boy, about 12, crawls up to me. He is crippled and carries his useless right leg over his right shoulder, he moves like a worm on the ground, pushing a tin can in front of him with each inch worm movement. He can move rapidly, and I cannot get away from him. He continues to push the tin in front of me and say something I cannot understand verbally, but can clearly understand energetically. With each worm movement he makes, he also makes a loud slap on the concrete with his hands. I consider giving him money, but my hands are full, I am physically pushed to my max, and my wallet is far away. If I stop to get money, I realize I will actually have to look at him, and that is more than I can do. I feel tears begin to come, but I am loosing Cedric in the crowd and must continue. The boy grabs the hem of my pants, and I must pull away to continue. I cannot look, I cannot look, I cannot look. As I get out of his reach, I continue to hear the slapping on the concrete and the plea in his voice as he chases after me. As I catch up with Cedric he is turning around and mumbling under his breath as he pulls out our “common wallet”. He goes back to the boy on the ground, and drops rupees in the tin.

As I follow Cedric into the air conditioned restaurant that was our destination, I can no longer stop the tears. This human condition is not something I can understand or assimilate into my experience of the world. How can there be this much suffering. I am struck with the idea of Karma, and that it may have been a construct to simply allow the human psyche to accept this sort of pain and misery.

The people in the south were very curious about us, and wanted to engage in conversation in any way possible. These people are not curious, they are aggressive. They do not smile at me with warm, welcoming, wondering smiles. They look at me with lust and dominance and jealousy. I have been told again and again, the south is very different from the north. I am learning that for myself.

As we sit in the restaurant I cannot stop crying, I am feeling the hysterical kind of sobbing coming on, but this does not feel like a safe place to do that – so I fight to stop it. It is the first time I want to go home. So I decide to call Eddie, and see if I can get a taste of home. Cedric reminds me that I do not want to walk among the crowds looking scared and vulnerable – that would be dangerous. I should not go to the phone until I am more controlled. The idea of talking to Eddie helps me stop the tears and gain composure. Ced stays with the luggage and I go to the phone. I am standing at a counter with a regular desk style phone, surrounded by people also wanting to use the phone, and the foot traffic of those in the terminal behind me. As soon as I hear Eddies voice I begin to sob again. I cannot breathe. I want to go home. Eddie talks me down in a very short period of time, and I’m feeling a little stronger and a little more able to continue.

The train ride is long and miserable and crowded (although we have bought “upgraded” seats). I spend the first part of the trip standing on the platform outside our train car at the open door, watching India pass before me. Eventually, it becomes farm land and green and picturesque. But I am too tired and scared and uncomfortable to appreciate much. There are men standing around me talking about me. I do not know what they are saying, but I am compelled to go sit in my seat instead.

I spend the next couple hours calming myself down by listening to my Ecstatic Dance music. I am able to travel through the 5 rhythms, and relate my trip to those rhythms. I dance in my head, I see my friends and family, I run stories of them over and over and over in my very vivid imagination. I watch re-runs in my head of things that have happened in the past, and write the scripts of how things may be in the future. I am surprised when Ced taps my shoulder to tell me we have arrived.

Arrival in Gaya is surreal, we find an autorickshaw to drive us to Bodhgaya. The ride is long and bumpy and mostly dirt roads. The surroundings are becoming more beautiful and rural. We are entering sacred territory, this is where the Buddha found enlightenment under the Bodi tree. I am wondering if I will find some too.

I want to go home.

Day Alone in Delhi

2006-10-12T12:16:00.000-07:00

10-10-06

Today we have a 7 hour lay over in Delhi airport, and I can’t sit here. I checked around, and hired a tour guide to take me to as many scenic places as possible. Here are a few of my day alone……..

Leaving Nagracoil

2006-10-12T12:12:00.000-07:00

10-9-06

We have completed all of our Kanykumari business for now. We have given the check to the men of AWED for the well projects, we have bid farewell to our Kadiapattinam friends, and we have decided to go North. Cedric will return in early December to check on the progress of the projects and potentially move into phase 2 projects. We have bought a very nice dowrey gift for Sundar, but need to find a way to give it to him without the others knowing. It is clear that this gift would cause quite a bit of jealousy.

We need to take a bus to Trivandrum, and so we ask Sundar if he will help us with that. He is happy to join us for the rickshaw ride to the bus station. When we arrive at the station, the bus is just about ready to leave, so we are hurried to get on. I do not get but a moment to hand him the gift and thank him for all he has done. It feels like a painfully short way to say goodbye to such a dear friend. I get on the bus and wedge myself in between our luggage and the open window. Cedric is still saying goodbye to Sundar. As we pull away, I lean out the window in hopes of seeing him, and he quickly comes around the back of the bus to wave goodbye. He waves, and waves, and waves until I am out of sight. Just as we turn the corner, he throws me a kiss. Goodbye my friend!

My Singing Waiter

2006-10-12T12:11:00.000-07:00

10-9-06
Ramons is one of the waiters (I have learned that Sundar is not a waiter, he is “Captain”). Ramons is usually crabby in the mornings, and funny in the evenings. He is older, balding and has a mouth full of rotten teeth. He says he is a fisherman who does not know how to fish, and who vomits if the sea is rough. I have come to learn that “fisherman” is as much an ethnicity here as it is a profession.

This morning he tells me he spent yesterday recording. When I don’t understand what he is saying he begins to sing to me. Now, I have spent the morning listening to him sing to me. He too is disturbed that I am not married, although I have come to learn that his wife kicked him out long ago. He now sings everytime he brings me food or drink, unless Cedric is here.

An Afternoon at Church

2006-10-12T12:09:00.000-07:00

10-9-06

Jesu and some of the Kadiapattinam friends showed up at our hotel yesterday looking for us. The boys who danced for us earlier in the week were performing in the Church Catechism Celebration. They said we needed to be there at 2:00. When we arrived, our group was in a back room frantically putting on their costumes and make up. It was a scene I have experienced a million times before. Teachers frantically trying to get the students ready, and students excited and nervous about their performance. The costumes were beautiful, and the boys in them were radiant.

The relationship between boys and girls here is very different. The boys hold hands and walk arm in arm and sit on each others laps as best friends in an easy and natural way. Ways that American boys would never touch one another. And while American girls will hold hands in some cases, the girls here stay in physical contact with one another in a very intimate and sweet way. When I suggested that in America this is very different, and that kind of hand holding and snuggling would only be between boys and girls they were mortified. Even married couples show no public signs of affection here. The women walk together, and the men walk together. Rarely have I seen couples together.

But back to the church program…….I arrived at 2:00, and our group of friends did not perform until 5:20. That is the longest I have sat in a church event in years! Between each performance was preaching from nuns and priests. The room was PACKED (well over 500 people) and stuffy. But no one seemed to notice, and few left early. Ultimately, I had to stand out on the walkway (the hall was on the second floor). I got to watch bus loads of people come and go. Children lined up to visit with me, as did the younger adults. I was hot and wanted an ice cream. So when the ice cream cart showed up down below, I asked a young boy if he would run down to get me and ice cream, and get one for himself too. I had to ask over and over before a young girl was brave enough to take my money. She brought me my ice cream, but did not have one for herself, she implied that would be wrong.

Marriage in India

2006-10-12T12:04:00.000-07:00

10-8-06

Our friend Jesu announced yesterday that his “marriage has been arranged”. The families had their meeting on Saturday, and the date has been set for November 27. He is quite happy about the arrangement. He says it is important to be married. It does seem like a good match as she is a teacher in Nagracoil and the families are compatible. He says this is a much better way, as the pressure of trying to marry for love is far more than he can take. “Love will come later” he tells me. He has begged me to return for the wedding. He thinks I am rich and can easily afford to come back.

The girls here definitely do not understand why I am not married, and why I am in no particular hurry to get married. I was unable to communicate that there is always the possibility I will never marry again. That was more than they could comprehend.

Yesterday Sundar got very serious and asked if he could talk to me about a difficult subject. And although this is not a subject he should discuss, his heart is heavy with it. He wanted me to promise that I would go home and get married. Having a boyfriend is “no good, not enough, you must be married”. Otherwise, he says, I will sit at home and do nothing, and be alone, and be wasted and “there will be no one to fetch you water in the night, or tie on your gown after your bath when you are old.” He was quite sincere in his plea, he is worried about my well being. He says it is bad that I sit here at night and eat alone and write in my book. When I told him that if I were married, if I did not eat alone, I would not have the opportunity to meet him or my other Indian friends. He said that would be a good thing, because I would have a husband.

He is responsible to get his sisters married, as his father has passed. It is quite a pressure for him. He must build 2 good dowreys to get 2 good arrangements. Wives are only as good as their fortunes. I tried to explain I have no fortune, so I would be a bad deal – but he could not understand that at all. I guess my car might make me a LITTLE valuable (?)

Sunrise over the Ocean

2006-10-09T17:50:00.001-07:00

I have been waking every morning around 4 a.m. I don’t know why I just do. I mentioned this to Sundar and he suggested a sunrise viewing in Kanyakumari. So this morning we met at 4:45 a.m. to catch the bus for the 45 minute trip to the very southern most tip of India. On this tip is a large Temple built to honor Gandhi, and off the tip are two LARGE rocks, one with a statue Thearuvallur, (sort of an Indian version of the Statue of Liberty) and one with another large temple, Vivekanda. The sun rises directly behind this temple and statue. In the Hindu tradition it is a great thing to watch the sunrise, as the sun is a god and to see the sunrise is to know that life is full and great. Hindus do not watch the sunset, it is a bad omen of sorts. We arrive

d well before sunrise, just as the sky was beginning to lighten. Slowly, we watched as the clouds became illuminated and pink and gold and blue and the beautiful bright sun, with perfectly placed clouds, began to rise behind the temple. The shore line was packed with hundreds of people, all in prayer, as the sky became brighter and brighter. Watching the sunrise is also a romantic event, like an American sunset. There were young married couples, old men in prayer, young children, a group of college students from the North and everything inbetween, all here to share in this sacred experience of Sunrise in Kanyakumari.

The horizon is dotted with hundreds of fishing boats, and as I look across this great expanse Sundar explains that I am looking where three oceans converge

. I am looking at the Indian Ocean, the Arabian Sea and the Bay of Bengal. I will bring home the differing sands of each.

As the sun peeked over the horizon the crowd cheered and clapped and thanked god for another beautiful day, and as I clapped along I thought “now THIS is gratitude. I think the next time I see a beautiful sight in nature, I too shall applaud.

Kiss from An Angel

2006-10-09T17:50:00.000-07:00

Oct. 8, 2006

Right on schedule, I woke at 4:20 this morning. I tried hard to ignore it and go back to sleep, but to no avail. Yesterday was a long, long exhausting day and by the time we returned to the hotel I literally fell into bed and was OUT.

Today should be a little more relaxed, although I anticipate we may go to Kadiapattinam. We were supposed to give a computer class there yesterday afternoon, but touring the villages took much longer than anticipated. Yesterday started off running off schedule, and I could see early on we had far too much planned in one day in an area like this. So, the class did not happen and I have a feeling it may get rescheduled to today. Tomorrow will be spent handling the financials with AWED, and we are hoping to go North on Tuesday. Actually, Cedric is hoping to go North. I would be very content to spend the rest of our time here, watching the projects begin and touring around with Sundar. But I am torn, I do want to see the orphanage in Bodgaya as well, so either way I’m happy.

Yesterday in one of the villages as we were followed by the children, there was an especially tenacious little girl who stayed close for quite awhile. She shyly started to hold my hand and stand very close to me at each place we visited. Everytime she would run away, she would show back up on the trail in front of us, or suddenly be holding my hand again. We played with words as usual, and she laughed each time I spoke one of my 4 words of Tamil, and each time we would start to leave her area she would say “bye, bye” and then follow us a little further. Ultimately, we reached the road and began walking away. After a bit of walking I turned around for one last look, and she was trailing behind watching us leave. Suddenly she stopped, crouched down, and threw me a kiss before running back to her small piece of neighborhood. I was surprised to see her do such a “Western” sort of motion, and once again I am reminded love looks the same in any language.

Feels Like Christmas

2006-10-08T13:11:00.000-07:00

Oct. 7, 2006

Yesterday was spent with the men from AWED, Father Nitya and Mister Vincent. We drove across the Southern tip of India (1 ½ hours @ 50 mph at best) to the outlying villages of Michaelnagar (43 families) and Georgenagar (72 families). These are very small, underserved villages of the lowest cast. We were, as usual, greeted first by the children, followed by their parents, all enjoying having us take pictures and laughing. Very few of these villagers knew the traditional sentences of “what is your name?”, “how are you?”. This village was different.

Both groups of villagers were anxious to sit with us and explain (thru Father Nitya) all about their villages, problems, children and needs. They are all in extreme need. The ability to choose which projects and which villages is very difficult. The very idea that choosing for one denies another is hard for me. I was totally overwhelmed by the time we reached the second village on foot across the hot, windy shore. I sat with the villagers for awhile, but soon needed to excuse myself to sit on the shore. I was followed by two little girls, and soon had a flock of children around me. Once I tired of taking picture after picture, and teaching them to hold the camera, I was at a loss as they sat with expectant faces for me to do something……anything would do. So we sang songs. They LOVED “I’m a little teapot”, with all the hand motions and inflections. They could repeat each phrase perfectly, although they sang “I’m a little tea pot short and stout” as if it was one word. And then came the “Tamil/English tutoring”. The naming of all the different body parts in both English and Tamil. My attempts at Tamil continues to be the cause if much laughter!

As we traveled from place to place, Father Nitya would give us the history and facts about the plants, the people, the animals, the homes, the situations. We met with many different groups and Fathers and engineers. They have brought us a list of 19 potential water/sanitation projects from which we can choose. It is a difficult choice. We cannot do them all, but I trust that if we just follow our instincts it will be chosen exactly as it should be.

This morning, we have decided how many projects we can begin with, and we will visit some of the villages where the projects will take place. We have decided to ask Father Nitya to prioritize which villages are served first. Still, I hate saying no to any of them. I started to calculate in my head how long it would take me to save and give them ALL the sanitation services they need…..but then they would need the education to go along with that…..and then they would need…….and then they would need……and then they would need………

Cedric has just left to exchange the projects travelers checks so that we can give the cash to Father Nitya and Father Gino. It feels like Christmas morning to me. I have that same butterfly effect in my tummy, and the lightheaded feeling of joy. This is a beautiful day, and I am blessed.

Projects Begin

2006-10-05T10:51:00.000-07:00

Thursday, Oct. 5, 2006

I am back at my hotel restaurant, with Sundar bringing me tea. So much has happened I don’t know where to begin-and I am exhausted.

I notice that the physical discomforts we are experiencing seem unimportant and not-to-bothersome in comparison to other difficulties. I’ve become accustomed to shaking out my towel before using it to make sure there are no cockroaches, and the critters that gather in the corners of the shower don’t seem to bother me. I am even used to the ways of driving in this country, I cannot even begin to describe that! We are, however, running low on toilet paper, and that I’m going to need to figure out!!!

The last two days have been filled with meetings and visiting the villages along the coast and trying to understand this very, very different world. Currently, we are considering three different projects, and yesterday we decided on our first two, and one begins construction TODAY!!!

When we first arrived in Kadiapattinam, we immediately saw the place that the well was to be built…..and there stood a pump. The good news is, the well has been built and the people have access to water. The pump says “AWED” in it, and so we decided to meet with these people, and see how we could continue assistance in water projects. After an afternoon of shopping with our Kadiapattinam friends, they picked us up at the hotel at 6:00 p.m. and drove us 45 minutes to their town. It was the most BEAUTIFUL sunset trip, with elephants along the side the road, mists on the rocky mountains and colors too brilliant to describe. We spent the evening talking about the conditions of the villages most heavily affected by the Tsunami, and the projects that are now under way. It turns out that AWED stands for Association of Womens Education and Development.

Cedric and I have been committed from the beginning to not give any services or assistance that WE think they should have, but to allow them to tell us what they need, and then decide if we can help. The well in Kadiapattiam had been a request from Father Gino, and he certainly wanted it bad enough – he made it happen. One of the things we have learned from Father is that these villages and the fisherman in them are the bottom of the bottom of the caste system. In the past, these villages and people “fell off the map” for any sorts of government assistance or involvement. In fact, so much so that they have very little government involvement at all, and so they are entirely run by the Catholic church. In a strange sort of way, the tsunami has been a tremendous blessing to them. It has gotten them services they would not have had, it is improving their opportunities and quality of life, and it is bringing education and awareness to an outcasted piece of their society. This is NOT my American version of what is happening here, it is the interpretation of Father Gino and others.

These coastal villages are 100% Christian, and their primary governing person is the Father of the parish. As Father Gino took us around to show us the achievements since the tsunami, and the people of the area, everywhere we went he was approached about everything from leaking roofs to arguments between neighbors to trouble with water. His days are filled with taking care of the needs of his parish. He moved to his new parish of Enayem just four months ago. He explained one of their greatest challenges is sanitation – both human waste and solid waste (crap AND trash). The men use the beaches and rock retaining walls as their toilet, and the women use the bush, and anything and everything inbetween. People like Father Gino and AWED are dedicated to “a toilet in every house” (these are sort of like an outhouse style toilet), and “sanitation education” in the schools – teaching children to wash their hands. They say that the children are “agents of change”, and can then educate their families.

As we approached a piece of coast that has been supported with huge boulders as a sea retaining wall to protect the village of Enayem, the scent of the ocean mist was overpowered by the scent of a bad porta pottie (the kind found at day 4 of a rock concert). The sea mist smelled of crap, and the foam around the rocks was yellow and foamy, unlike any sea foam I had ever seen. All along the coast looked like a garbage dump, with crows everywhere and incredible amounts of trash. The poorest of the poor live closest to the water. I could not help but marvel at the differing values of “ocean front property”.

As we toured the villages, Father Gino took us to his parish school, St. Helen’s. It is for ages 6-15. As we toured we were shown their water fountain where the children both wash and drink. It was in a HORRIBLE state of disrepair, with only 2 of the 12 spickets working, broken tiles, pipes, flooded swamp area and overgrown with moss and worms. As we were taking pictures of the area children were released onto their recess, and hundreds of children swarmed the two working spickets (and US!). Immediately, Cedric and I knew we wanted to fix this area. These children needed better access to water, and we knew we could do something about it. We met with the Dean, who then contacted a contractor, and by the afternoon we were sitting in a budget meeting discussing what could be done. Our tour also showed that their kitchen facilities were in a terrible state of disrepair, as are their pre-school classrooms. So, we asked the contractor for a budget to fix it all………a short while later we were shaking hands and handing them their first installment of rupees and the project begins TODAY!. Father Gino says we will see the first stage of improvements before we leave Nagracoil.

The intricacies of the politics here, of the corruption and blame and lack and need and struggles are more than I can explain or understand. This is a culture and society that is incomprehensible to the average American (or at least this one). Not only did I not know this existed, there is no way for me to begin to understand what is really going on here.

Last night, we returned to Kadiapattinam to attend the after school “tuition” program (tutor), and to have dinner with the teachers. They are a unique group of young people. We were joined by Father Edwin, who is young, good looking, healthy, strong, smart and well educated in the ways of society outside of India. He gently reminded the teachers to speak only Engish, so that their guests could understand, and explained all of the intricacies and traditions of dining together. He silently bought us all ice cream (but I knew this was a huge treat). And as we all sat on the floor in a large circle, sitting Indian Style (as they insisted we call it), and as our language barriers caused some struggle, I was struck with the idea of playing a game…….and I decided to attempt “nut, nut”, no English required. (for those of you who are NOT Youth to Youthers, I’ll explain later). Suffice to say, it is a ridiculous rhythm game and it was a huge hit. One of the teachers, Flius, wanted to do it over and over and over again. I then asked them for an Indian game and Father Edwin led us through a name game that is very much like Big Bootie! Suddenly, the world didn’t seem so large after all. However, playing a name game with names such as Flius, Femi, Listern, and Dissi wasn’t quite as easy as usual. Father Edwin says this is a quite unusual group of young people for India, and young men and women do not usually socialize together, much less be such good friends. He says they act “as if they are lovers, but they are not”. What I saw was incredible camaraderie.

During the evening I wanted to take a walk, so Jesu took me on a tour of the village. We talked about lots of things, and mostly his desire to better himself. He explained how difficult that is here, when all of his world experience is just this village, and his college in the nearby town of Nagracoil. He said he failed an interview recently because his English is too slow and poor, and that without English you can never advance in India because even to communicate with other parts of this country you need English, as English is the only common language. He was telling me how very grateful he is for this time with Cedric and I to practice not only speaking quicker, but more importantly comprehending quicker. He said he knows we are talking much slower than we would at home, and he wants to be able to speak as quickly as I would with my friends. (I didn’t tell him that my pace of talking isn’t exactly normal).

As we were walking through the small alleys of the village, people came out to talk to us. Suddenly, Jesu kicked off his shoes and entered into a house – he obviously expected me to follow. It was the home of Pepe, one of his secondary students who had spent the previous evening with us. I was immediately escorted into a back room to meet his aunt, who had polio as a child, and has not walked since she was a young girl. She lives on a cushion on the floor. Plastic chairs were immediately unstacked, someone fetched a fan to place directly on me (someone must have said I was hot), and I was handed some sort of food. (NEVER have I been fed so much – more about that later). The conversation became based on me wanting to learn Tamil – and so they began to teach me words. We laughed and laughed and laughed. We found quite a bit of entertainment in my mispronunciations of their words. They seem astonished that I will even try.

The evening culminated with our Project #2. After much discussion and preparation, we have decided to give this group of teachers one of our laptops. (again, because they say it is something that will enhance their quality of life). Cedric has set it up with Windows and internet, Jesu is researching getting internet to the village (it is already there in a limited fashion). Saturday, Cedric will give a computer class to this group of young teachers (although three of them are already in computer studies), and we are hopeful that we will all stay in contact as we continue to find ways to support this beautiful village on the sea.

Today is Thursday. We are both exhausted, and more than a bit crabby. Cedric is meeting with both Father Gino and Jesu this afternoon. I need a break (So does Ced). It is an interesting challenge to try and retreat or quiet down here. There is no place to go for relief. Regardless, there is constant input and noise and smell and heat and some sort of pressure, and of course the language barrier makes everything more difficult. Nothing is normal. Cedric is also at his threshold, and I am challenged to not take his struggles on as my own or as something I need to repair or change or challenge in some way. My own threshold is plenty for me to negotiate at the moment.

Sundar and a tour

2006-10-02T17:39:00.000-07:00

I have struck up quite a friendship with the waiters at our hotel. They are teaching me Tamil and I am making them laugh. Yesterday I asked them what the head wobble means, as it is confusing to me, it is neither yes or no, it is somewhere in between and I am never sure if I am being understood or ignored. This question caused quite a bit of laughter, and now they mock me by shaking their heads yes and no. Sundar has the best English, and he is my best Indian tutor. He was sharing local facts with me when I asked where there might be a temple. He offered to take me there. We met this morning at 7 a.m. and walked through the sleepy town. He talked the whole way, giving me a fascinating cultural class about arranged marriages, family responsibility, work ethic, religious unity, festivals, Gandhi day, the poor in India and the family of 6 that he supports.

We walked to a nearby Hindu Snake Temple, which, according to Sundar, is very famous. He explained how to enter, how to pray, what to pray for, and how people with the strongest of faiths undeniably get anything they wholeheartedly pray for. Men must remove their shirts before entering, to represent that all men are equal before god. Offering of food and milk are given at each statue. Blessings are bestowed by the Bramen who run the temple. I witnessed a ceremony where young children begin their learning of Hindu. I saw the area for sacred bathing, and gods water, and the tree with the prayers from women who specifically want children. Sundar is clearly a regular here, all the Bramen knew him, and there was much inside conversation and laughter between them all. He is clearly well known and loved by many. I am touched by his genuine love of god, faith, joyous nature and deep compassion.

I have three words I now overuse:

Nundree, “thank you”

Baboom, “so long”

Wannacome, “hello” or “welcome”

Two more interesting billboards:

Eat healthy, think better (an ad for crackers)

You can’t hold on to both, don’t drink and drive

Kaddiapatinam

2006-10-02T17:32:00.000-07:00

I have been trying to think since yesterday of appropriate expletives to describe our arrival in Kaddiapatinam yesterday. They all seem to pale.

After a morning of dawdling around Nagarcoil, and a wonderfully fun experience in a sari shop where I was attended to by somewhere upwards of 15 people to fit me in a sari (which I did not buy, I bought a sudidthar instead), we hired a rickshaw and headed toward Kaddiapatinam. (This is the village that the entire project was originally based around, and the subject of our Ashland fundraiser). This time we hired a CRAZY driver, and Kaddiapatinam is about a 30 minute drive (now THAT was scary-especially the ride back in the dark!). The change in scenery was incredible. The trees, the villages, the people. All very different than my experience of a rickshaw around the city of Chennai. This is yet another country. Cedric asked me to video our arrival, and just catch whatever came up. So the camera was running as we entered, and people on the sides of the road began to wave. The ocean was spectacular with large waves crashing off the rocks, throwing spray far, far into the air. There is that smell of ocean, and lines and lines of fishing boats. We are here to meet with Father Gino, the man Cedric worked with in 2005. We arrived at the church to find out he has been transferred to another parish, and no longer lives here. We wandered around a bit, and found a woman who said she would call Father for us, and after a few calls, a cup of tea and a bag of chips she was able to find him. Cedric was elated, and is scheduled to meet up with him today. So it seemed our trip to Kaddiapatinam was complete for the time, but I wanted to walk around a bit before leaving, this was a long journey for me. It didn’t take long before the hummm of our arrival traveled through this sleepy little village. A group of men approached Cedric, and one remembered him from 2 years ago. He introduced us around, one thing led to another and it appeared that the English teacher Cedric had worked with was still here, so a group of young high school boys took us there. They were very friendly and curious, and obviously were enjoying the opportunity to utilize the English they learn in school, which I have come to learn consists of “how are you”, “fine”, “what is your name”, “where are you from”. That’s it, sorta like me a spanish. There was a younger group of children who ran out in front of us and yelled out their 3 or 4 phrases and then excitedly ran away. Ultimately, the boys took us to the English teachers house, only this was not the teacher that Cedric knew, but they invited us in anyway, served us plantains and Orange Fanta, and we visited with this family, played with their babies, took pictures, laughed, and talked about the village, the school and the students. Their hospitality was so warm and genuine. We soon said good bye and headed out. Someone said they knew where the other English teacher was and we followed him. We knocked on door after door and eventually one was opened by a man who was obviously THRILLED to see Cedric. His name is Jesu. He immediately invited us in. We stayed for hours. We learned about the school, the community, and a volunteer program he has coordinated. We learned that teachers are not paid while they teach, they teach knowing that they will receive pay in 5 – 10 years. They teach HOPING that a permanent teaching position will become available. I am not clear how they actually survive in the meanwhile. But this man was amazing. His heart, his love for the children, his dedication. He has coordinated a group of 6 of his friends, and together they have created a volunteer after school tutor program. The purpose is specifically for the children from poorer homes, whos parents are unable to assist them with homework in the evenings. So he and his friends gather at the school and help them study. We talked on and on about the village and the students and tremendous needs that the school and students have. He said that the problems created by the tsunami had been handled, and now they are back to their normal struggles. He too spoke of the needs of the students and young people, as did the man in Chennai. We asked if we could see the school, and he said yes, we could peek through the windows, but if we wanted to see inside we would need to come back. It was decided we would come back on Wednesday.

Soon, a group of beautiful women showed up, and Jesu said, “oh, these are my friends who help me with tutor”. Eventually we were joined by one more young man that made this group of 7 complete. Here is where any description I may give will truly not do justice to this experience. This group of vibrant young adults (all in their early 20’s) go to school themselves during the day, some of them traveling to the University that is an hours bus ride each way, and then return here to tutor every evening, while also maintaining their own studies in History, Computers, Civil Engineering, Tailoring and English. I immediately felt like I had known them forever. Their glowing faces and optimistic outlook as they sat on the floor of this thatched roof hut, furnished with only two plastic chairs, a small television, a make shift bed and two large paintings of Jesus, spoke about school, and the children, and their village, and wanted to know if I was married because I wore a marriage ring on my toe. Then they asked if I wanted to wear a sari. When I said yes, they were thrilled, and rushed me off into the small attached room to wrap me up, put flowers in my hair and bindi on my forehead. We were all giggling and talking all at once, mixing languages and laughter and jewelry. The men in the other room were also laughing and waiting and saying, “what are you doing in there?”. When I came out it was more of the same, with photos and more photos and everyone wanting to stand together, and they took me outside for more photos and more laughter, and suddenly they ask if they can take me sari shopping (we are meeting tomorrow at 1:00) and would we come back to visit the school, and have dinner and dancing. And now Wednesday is a party – we’ll all be there and they are bringing friends, and celebration has begun and I am in love. And I am in love.

Sleeper Car

2006-10-02T17:16:00.000-07:00

Oct. 1

2:15 a.m.

Overnight train from Chennai to Katakumari

I am writing from our first class sleeper car. Its really rather comfortable (even air conditioned!), although there is a strong smell of urine coming from the seat I am sleeping on. Cedric is sleeping on the pull down bed above. I can’t imagine it smells much better.

Yesterday was an intense day. I had a bit of a difficult time (day 3 meltdown) It was all rather overwhelming and I got myself into a bit of an anxious state. It started the night before, and I opted to skip dinner with Cedric and his friend because I thought I needed to just stay in a ground a bit. (THAT was a difficult decision).

I woke early again, and decided I wanted to see the streets of the city in the early morning light. I wandered out around 6 and it was so quite and sleepy compared to the chaos we had been experiencing during the daytime and evening. There were families sleeping on the sidewalks, and mothers and babies were stirring. I walked a bit, and found myself a small piece of open sidewalk to sit and watch the comings and goings. There are women and children who are paid by the government to rise early and clean the streets, I saw them working away. Soon two young mothers approached me holding a small naked baby boy. His leg was in a makeshift splint and they explained he had rolled off the very tall curb in his sleep. They handed him to me. We sat and talked about their babies. One had 3 and the other had 2, both mothers were in their early 20’s. Soon, their children started gathering around too. They were laughing and telling me their names and staring at me with big huge smiles. They mothers were VERY proud of their children. They were happy to hear I have two children myself, and am going to become a grandma (nuun – my first Indian word). Then they asked if I would help them by giving them some money. I said yes, but first I wanted to hear more about them. So we visited, laughed and I held the baby. As I got up to leave they let me take their picture, they loved looking at the little screen on the camera. As I walked away I noticed that next to us was a cart with what looked like someone sleeping in it, then I saw that it was a dead body, covered by an old bedspread with gold fringe. It didn’t feel out of the ordinary at all, not even to me. I wandered on back to the hotel, and woke up Cedric.

A good portion of the day was spent getting ourselves to the Prepare offices. This is the organization that Cedric worked for during the Tsunami. They do a wide variety of relief work. We met with Dr. Raj, who was also the director when Cedric was here before. He was very welcoming and helpful. We talked about the needs of the southern villages and how we could best be of service. He cautioned us to not do anything for the people that they do not ask for, and that we not send the message that they are not responsible for themselves, and capable of getting their own needs met. It was wise council, and he struck me as a very intelligent, compassionate and caring man. We talked about the water situation, and while there is a tremendous amount of need in that area, his own personal suggestion was that our services may be better utilized by helping the youth. He said they need skills, education, and hope. He said he would make some phone calls for us, and put us in touch with a woman who can better direct us in the South. We will be calling him tomorrow for that information. In the meanwhile, we are getting ourselves to the South.

The bulk of the day was in a rickshaw!! The Prepare office was very far from our hotel, and I got the first idea of how huge this city is. The ride went on and on and on and on. We bounced through a huge range of neighborhoods. Shanty areas, city chaos, back alleys, dug up streets. There were areas in the little thatched hut cardboard houses where they had stacks and stacks of speakers, blazing music that could be heard for blocks. It was a huge mix of contrasts, and I could describe them forever.

We also visited the internet shop again. I sat next to a man who struck up conversation and was excited to hear I was from the US, his cousin lives somewhere in California. We chatted a bit and then he asked if Cedric was my husband. “No”, was he my boyfriend? “no, he’s my travel partner”, “oh good, because I want to know you.”………”no”. I turned back to my computer and thought “okay, you’ll answer that one differently in the future”.

At breakfast I struck up conversation with an older man who sort of runs the restaurant. He turned out to be the amazingly well educated, political activist from Sri Lanka (although he was clear to state that he claims no citizenship, only humanity). He said he chooses to live in India because life here is easy and making a living here “no problem”. He was fascinating and had lots to say about religion, Bush, globalization, community, family. He has 4 children, all of whom live in Denmark. He is very well traveled and had a mighty global picture of the world. At the conclusion of our conversation he asked for my email, and said, “you make good arguments, I would like to stay in touch. And you have a brother in me always.”

We have hired the same rickshaw for the last two days, so we became acquainted with the driver. A young man who described himself as coming from a family of “5 to feed, but only 1 to work”. (as peculiar as this might sound, he had the same facial structure as Rory, and I couldn’t stop thinking about him the whole time). He has two children, one is 2 years and the other is 20 days, “one boy, one lady”. He asked if I had a gift for his wife. When I said no he suggested I could give her my watch. I gave her my peace prayers necklace instead.

We visited some temples and St. Thomas Cathedral, and found a center that was a monastery of sorts for all religions. In the middle of all the crazy city chaos, there is a HUGE piece of land dedicated to religious unification. The first thing we saw as we entered the ground was a peace pole…….and home didn’t seem so far away. We wandered around the grounds, visited with all the cows, saw Banyon trees (huge trees whos roots grow as full treetrunks out of the branches and into the ground). The grounds went on and on and on and on. It was very, very beautiful.

My anxiety has subsided (for the moment), replaced by feeling subdued and helpless. This is an intense place, and I am more clear than ever that I know very, very little about our world and how it all works, but I do know how very small I feel in the midst of it.

We've Made It!

2006-09-28T11:11:00.000-07:00

And here I sit in a very small, dark, cool, dirty internet room, with loud Indian music playing and a smell I can't quite identifiy. I'll be writing quickly, with no editing, so this is just what's rollin' out at the moment.

After the longest 53 hours of travel EVER, we arrived in Chennai late last night. We had stop overs in both Hong Kong and Singapore, neither of which felt all that different from "airport anywhere". All the same ads, stores, models, and off course the first thing we saw in Hong Kong was Starbucks (literally). We had 9 hours to spend in Singapore, so we took a city bus tour, a ride on the riverboat, and spent time in a gym (complete with treadmill and showers!) I was hoping some exercise would help with the fact that my feet and ankles have swollen in such a way that I don't recognize myself from the knee down. (they actually look like marshmellows stuffed into my chocos, marshmellows....hummmm) I know thats my toe ring, but those are NOT my toes. (speaking of which, people here are fascinated with my flowery toenails, they got quite a bit of attentiton at breakfast)

Stepping out of the airport here in India was an entirely different experience. It was immediate sensory overload. The masses of people, the rush, the push, the men trying to get us to rent their cab. It wasn't long before I realized that the lines on the road dont really mean anything, and that driving here is equal parts sensory experience and visual experience. Most vehicles dont have rear view mirrors, and if they do they are bent in, because the cars drive side by side, and I mean SIDE BY SIDE. There is no space between one car and the next, and mixed in the middle are motorcycles with anywhere between 1 and 5 riders, rickshaws, water trucks, and pedestrians! It is unlike anything I have ever seen (obviously) and quite the experience. Honking is a driving requirement, NOT a frustrated "get out of my way" sort of honk I know from home. This is more like a "I'm here" annoucement. The trucks and ricshaws are painted on the back, "sound horn".

Today we took a Mr. Toads wild ricshaw ride, and wandered through an outdoor marketplace, where walking in the street is much easier than the sorta-sidewalk. I encountered my first interaction with crippled people pulling on me, mothers with babies begging and everyone wanting to sell me evey little thing. It was overwhelming and different and new all at once. Im definitely not all here yet, I'm feeling like I've been transported to some sort of virtual experience of this - I can't really be IN IT!!!

We had dinner in a restaurant with an open deck where I just sat a story above all the chaos and watched for a long, long time. Everyone rushing to get somewhere, the women all BEAUTIFULLY dressed, hair perfect, flowers in their hair and long flowing sari's, on the backs of motorcycles and walking along the filthy crammed streetside. But, the thing that stood out the most to me today is the lack of women! It is by far mostly men. I counted in the airport terminal before we boarded, there were over 100 men, and 10 women. That seems to be the ratio.

After dinner we wandered around the streets, and down an alley that turned into homes off sorts. I was approached by a beautiful little girl who said, "Hi, whats your name". We stopped and visited and instantly there were children everywhere. They wanted to shake our hand and say hello and ask our name. The first girl had the best english, and she kept coaching the others. When Cedric asked a little boy, "how are you?" the big girl punched his arm and said, "say FINE", he turned to Cedric and said "fine". Then they all said, "fine, fine, fine". I could have stayed there all night, but it was clear we had wandered into an area that we had no business, so we quickly wandered out.

I've been having fun keeping a log of the strange billboards and bumper stickers....here are a few:

Stop fiddling with the radio and drive

Sound Horn

Words Kill.....limit cell phone use while driving

Come on, lets speak fluent English

Do not spit in the cabins, it is our humble request (as we entered the internet cafe)

One family, one child

And my favorite...

On the road to safety (this sticker was well placed to take up the top left quarter of the already very small windshield off our ruckshaw, along with mulitiple other stickers) Now how safe is that???

Tomorrow we plan to visit a temple and the burrial place of St. Thomas (doubting Thomas). We will be here a couple days as we are having dinner with someone tomorrow, and meeting with a man who can help connect us with officials in the Southern Villages.

I'm hopeful I'll wake in the morning feeling more like I have arrived.

A Message From Above

2006-09-21T15:35:00.000-07:00

Welcome to my

India

Blog. As most anyone who is reading this knows, I have been in preparation for this trip since last September. Many of you are the reason I am able to do this trip. It has been your generosity, support, ideas, encouragement and love that have kept me focused and convinced that I can do this!!!

We leave on Monday (5 days) and I’m starting to loose a little sleep over it all. Tossing and turning over the ideas in my head of what India is going to be like, over the packing list and things I might forget, over the “what if’s” around travel in such a distant place, over wondering if Choco’s really are the best choice of shoe for three weeks of walking in a third world country. We’ll see.

But today, I received one of those wonderful signs from the Universe.

Again, if you know me well enough to be reading this, you may also know about a few of my idiosyncrasies. One of which is my love of the Beatles, and my belief that God talks to me through them. I have found throughout my life that whenever the Beatles come on the radio if I stop for just a moment I can see that whatever it is I’m doing, or decision I am about to make, is absolutely where I am “supposed” to be, and that all is right in my world-in a really big way. You need to know that I cannot “cheat” the system and simply put on my Beatles CD’s whenever I want to be convinced “I’m where I’m supposed to be”. No, it doesn’t work that way. It only works when I hear The Beatles in random places at random times. And, for the record, someone ELSE doing a Beatles song doesn’t count, nor does songs sung by any of the Beatles as an individual. Only the true Beatles will do when God is talking to me.

So today Cedric and I had an appointment at the bank to get our Travelers Checks. And because we both have been fundraising, and we’re headed to India to work on a project, we have a nice size amount of these checks.

But this past week I’ve been getting a bit nervous about the trip. All my own fears, doubts, worries and neurosis have been popping up throughout my days and nights. I’ve worried about the projects, I’ve worried about doing the trip “right” for all our financial supporters. I’ve worried that if the project doesn’t go the way I think it should then I’ll let everyone down, and feel obligated to return their generously donated dollars.

And as we stood at the counter at the bank, and the teller says, “I’m going to have quite a few forms for you to sign” I find myself tappin’ my toe to , “c’mon, c’mon, c’mon baby now” and realize that there, in the middle of a usually quite bank, are the voices of my favorite four, singing to me, and reminding me that I can’t do this wrong, I can’t do it badly, I can’t screw this up. But I can choose my thoughts and ideas around how I WANT to do this. Do I want to be in joy or in fear? And as I ask the question, the answer is provided, “shake it up baby now!!!”